


Feathers

by Anythingtoasted



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a drabble for a cuddle-off with <a href="http://outpastthemoat.tumblr.com">Moaty</a>. Wings, some schmoop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers

Sunlight filters through the gaps in the canopy above him; the rustling, blood-warm expanse of brown above his head undulates softly as if breathing, and underneath him the other wing is spread out against his back, a heated blanket that tips him against Castiel’s side when he wakes.

It’s becoming a pretty regular thing to wake up in a sort of feathery cocoon, and if he’s perfectly honest, Dean doesn’t mind one bit.

“Mornin’.” He murmurs sleepily, and Castiel cracks one eye open and smiles.

“Good morning.” He whispers back. Between them his hands are curled, and Dean kisses the knuckle of one, eyes briefly closed before he opens them again and catches the edge of a smile as it alights on Castiel’s mouth, and then is gone. He shifts closer; mutters the next sentence against the crook of Castiel’s neck.

In the mornings, wings unfurled, Castiel sometimes smells like down; like the light, animal smell that takes Dean back to weekends on the farms his dad’s friends owned, waking at the crack of dawn to stumble through the hen-houses, collecting eggs. He’s pliable and gentle like this, in his element.

He told Dean – only once – that having his wings out like this, visible, makes him feel truly naked. Truly visible. Free.

Times like this, though, are not for talking. Dean settles for digging his nose into the spot beneath Castiel’s ear; for drinking in the sigh that escapes him, the way his body slumps against Dean’s, the way his wings fold over them, a canopy above their heads – their legs tangled together, palm to palm, safe and secure in a morning-time world of their own. 


End file.
